


The Problem

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Lucas was meant to be recruiting new "family members", but he makes a mistake and has a new problem to deal with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little piece from my back catalogue.

Lucas was about to give up for the day when the car pulled over.

He'd been sent out by his old man to collect more family members and even though it pissed him off it was good to get out the swamp for a few hours. And really - who else could do it? Momma with her fuckin’ bees shooting out of her crotch? Daddy swingin’ his big old shovel with that crazy, shit-eating grin he had? They wouldn't get 10 feet into town before getting shot down like dogs. And forget Zoe. Lazy bitch thought she was too good for that.  
Lucas had gone to a scrubby patch of woods that he knew by the roadside. Situated where it was in the ass-end of nowhere it was a common pitstop for travellers needing a bathroom break. It's usage was evident from the wilted foliage and pissy smell, but after the mold back at the house, the acrid reek was almost welcoming. Even the mosquitoes didn't bother Lucas, sensing, perhaps, that something in his blood wasn't right.  
Several people had stopped, but none had been suitable: A Mom and Pop with their teenage kids and a dog. Two burly truck drivers who'd competed to see who could piss furthest up a tree trunk. A goddam pig emptying a morning's worth of coffee from his bladder.  
Lucas wasn't taking a chance on any of them.  
But then the car drew into sight, slowing as it crested the hill, and he knew he had one more customer.  
It was spluttering greasy clouds from the exhaust and the paintwork was scarred and rusted. The battered door opened and the driver scrambled out, already tussling with the button of her jeans. Lucas judged she was in her early twenties, but a hard life had already stamped its lines on her face. The tired eyes, disheveled clothes and hickey-necklace were one clue that she might be suitable, but the real kicker was the car, piled up to the roof in back with duffle bags and other assorted crap. Lucas was willing to bet it contained all of her worldly possessions.  
He crept closer to where she stood, using the undergrowth as camouflage, his dull green hoodie blending in. His usual MO was to strike as soon as possible, but the possibility of seeing a glimpse of pussy as she pissed was enough incentive to make him hold off temporarily.  
She'd gotten the button undone and was struggling with the zip when Lucas inadvertently stepped on a crushed beer can, hidden by the long grass. The tinny pop was loud in the silence, and the woman gasped, looking in his direction. Cursing, Lucas launched himself from hiding, iron bar already swinging.  
Her scream cut off before it had properly started. He'd meant to sneak up and rap the back of her head, but the change of plan had made him sloppy. The bar had caught her square on the temple. She crumpled to the ground at his feet.  
“Shit….” Lucas stared down at her. She lay with her neck at an unnatural angle, her eyes open. A widening stain darkened the crotch of her jeans as her body completed the task she'd set out to do. Not holding out much hope, he felt for her pulse. Nothing.  
“Fuck.”  
He dropped the iron bar onto the ground and ambled over to the car. He was mad: Mad at his father for sending him out on this mission; mad at whoever had tossed the beer can into the bushes; mad at the woman for turning round; mad at himself for screwing up and killing the bitch. All that time spent crouching in the dirt for nothing, and now he had to get rid of the body. Eveline had specifically requested a live one.  
He opened one of the rear doors, a brief avalanche of dirty clothes, cosmetics and cds tumbling out onto the grass verge. Cursing, he gathered everything up and stuffed it back in, pocketing a pair of black lace panties for future use. Delving inside, he carved out a hollow in the mounded junk just large enough to cram her body into, then went to retrieve her.  
A fly scurried around her face, paddling stickily in the single drop of blood that had trickled from her ear. Wrinkling his nose at the stench of ammonia coming from her, Lucas scooped her up and deposited her in the cosy cave he'd made. That done, he retrieved his iron bar and opened the driver's door.  
Her keys still swung in the ignition, which was good, but what was in the passenger seat wasn't. Lucas stared.  
“Shitfuck!”

The door to Zoe’s trailer was closed despite the heat, but Lucas hammered on it as loudly as he dared.  
“Zoe! Open the fuck up!”  
She took her time coming to the door, opening it up a crack, her stoned eyes squinting blearily in the light.  
“What?”  
“I got a problem.”  
Zoe shrugged.  
“Then it's your problem, not mine.”  
She started to close the door, but Lucas wedged his foot in it.  
“Help me out here, Zoe…” he pleaded.  
“Why should I?”  
Sighing, Lucas dug into his pocket and dragged out the candy bar he'd found in the woman's car. He waggled it in front of his sister's eyes, seeing the look of something approaching lust appear on her face at the sight of it.  
“There's more where that came from,” he told her. “If you help me.”  
Torn, she lingered behind her door for a moment before slipping outside, the draw of the candy bar too much to resist. She tried to snatch it from him, but he held it out of reach.  
“Uh-uh, not yet,” he scolded, shoving it back in his pocket. “Come with me first.”  
Sighing, she followed him down to the dirt road where he'd parked the car.

Zoe and Lucas stood in the shade of the cypress tree, looking into the car interior.  
“What do you want me to do about it?” asked Zoe finally.  
“I dunno,” admitted Lucas. “But I thought, with you bein’ a girl and all….”  
“No way!” Even off her head on whatever pills she'd recently popped, Zoe was adamant. “You are not dumpin’ this off on me! Nope!”  
“Aw, come on Zoe!”  
“No Lucas! You created this problem, you deal with it. Just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean I know anythin’ about babies!”  
“But what am I s’posed to do with it?”  
“I don't know! Where's the mother?”  
“I killed her.”  
“Aw, shit, Lucas!”  
“It was an accident!”  
A sleepy whimper from inside the car interrupted their bickering. Zoe regarded the baby doubtfully.  
“Maybe Momma….?” she began, but Lucas scoffed at her.  
“Hell, Zoe, she'd either cook it or start tryin’ ta breastfeed it, state she's in!”  
They both shuddered at the mental image.  
“What do you care, anyway?” asked Zoe. “You goin’ soft now? I'm surprised you didn't just kill it.”  
“I couldn't,” he admitted. “I don't like babies, but...y’know...babies never done nothin’ to hurt nobody…..”  
Zoe sighed.  
“Just take it into town an’ dump it on the church steps, Lucas. And gimme my candy bar!”  
Irritated, Lucas tossed it to her and watched her weave her way back up the path.

Lucas heaved the woman's body into the swamp head first, watching as she sank slowly. Long shadows detached themselves from the bank, sliding into the water and making their way over to the decreasing ripples.  
“Supper time!” called Lucas half-heartedly.  
Normally he enjoyed feeding the gators, finding the way they squabbled over tasty morsels amusing, but today his heart wasn't in it. On the path next to him, still strapped into the car seat, the baby continued to sleep undisturbed. He'd scavenged what supplies he could from the car before pushing it into the bushes and covering it with branches, but as he regarded the pile of toys, clothes and diapers he wondered how something so small could require so much stuff. It was a long walk into town and he was tired after his busy day.  
“Tell you what, partner, you can bunk up with me tonight, and we'll see what we can do about you tomorrow.”  
The baby yawned, exposing a set of clean pink gums.  
Lucas grabbed the car seat by the handle, gathered up his supplies, and started back to the house.

He'd set up the contraption he assumed was a steriliser and had mixed up a batch of formula.  
The baby, quiet for so long, started to fuss as Lucas filled one of the bottles.  
“Hang in there, buddy, supper’s comin’,” he muttered. He'd read the instructions on the can of powdered formula carefully, but the stuff smelled like shit. He hoped it hadn't gone off or something.  
The baby started crying in earnest, eyes squeezed shut, tiny fists clenching. Lucas crouched in front of the car seat and held the bottle out, shoving the rubber teat into the squalling mouth. The response was immediate, the screeching stopping, the baby's lips fastening greedily. Lucas watched as the bottle gradually emptied.  
“How can you drink that shit?” he marvelled. The baby belched in reply, puking milk down its front. Lucas grimaced, wiped the puke up with muslin.

The baby stank. Lucas had been working, trying to ignore the smell, but it was starting to get to him. He'd cleared up guts and gore in his time, but the prospect of changing a shitty diaper made him queasy. It was only when the baby started screaming its discomfort that Lucas admitted defeat.  
He grappled the baby from the carseat, unbuckling more straps than he thought possible. The baby kicked its legs grumpily. Lucas regarded the tiny sleepsuit, yellow with a duckling on the breast, wondering how one went about undoing the array of complicated snaps that held it all closed - and how one fastened them back up correctly.  
“Aw, fuck. How hard can it be?”  
He laid the baby on a stack of old newspapers, holding it still with one hand as he undid the romper. The baby was still snivelling, but was watching him with interest. As the final snap came undone, Lucas looked at the baby's body grimly.  
“Shit, buddy. What the fuck was wrong with your momma?”  
There were healing burns over the baby's chest and belly, small and round, the size of a cigarette end. Bruises looped around the little arms, lines of them, in the shape of fingers.  
Lucas sighed and undid the diaper tape, wincing at the smell that was released. Gagging, he grabbed a wipe and started cleaning up the tiny butt, his eyes watering.  
“Holy fuck, what she been feedin’ you, girl?”  
Clean, the baby stopped crying. She gazed at him with wide blue eyes the colour of his own. Hesitantly, he extended a hand, and she grasped a finger, little silvery nails digging into him. She smiled.  
“Well, shit….” he muttered. “Wonder if you got a name? Bet she gave you a stupid one. Britney or Chanel or somethin’. Reckon I could think up a better one.”  
He picked her up.  
“You wanna come see what I built? It ain't finished yet, but it's gonna be good.”  
He carried her round the room, pointing things out. She gurgled as he talked to her.  
“....and that's where you gotta put the balloon, but when it goes bang, there'll be nails in it! How ‘bout that?” She laughed and he laughed with her. “And that there, that's the barrel o’ oil that'll catch on fire. Flames everywhere! Reckon I could teach you how ta build sump’n like this when you're older….” he mused. “Would you like that, Lucinda? Yeah, course you would….”


End file.
